Deep within an immeasurable darkness, at the end of a pitch-black, gloomy street. In the narrow depths of Chernus, outside the towering gate, everything is cold and quiet, as if even time itself has come to a standstill. Nothing moves, everything shrouded in darkness, silently existing here. It has been like this for decades, centuries, millennia, and eons.
But today, things are different.
Conversation can be heard.
One voice is collected and frigid, belonging to a man.
The other voice hints at deep sorrow and unease, that of a woman.
"This is the Tartar Gate, thus, I am here, appearing before those who approach this gate. You have called upon me."
The man coldly declared, not a shred of hesitation in his tone.
"... Me?"
The woman's voice carried a note of confusion.
"Exactly, it wasn't Joseph Chapek's spirit-falling technique, nor was it the Green Stone that guy gave you. It was you, it was you who summoned me. Tremble, be afraid, but you need to make a choice."